Midnights Meditations of Death With Pious and Profitable Observations, and Consolations [by Edward Buckler]: Perused by Francis Quarles A little before his Death |
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Meditation 1.
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 | Midnights Meditations of Death |  |
Meditation 1.
Methinks the trade of brainlesse Epicures
Is not so good as it doth seem to be.
The sweetest cup of luxury procures
No man below an immortalitie.
Yea, when sicknesses do lay
Him upon his bed, and strain
Everie part with deadly pain,
All his pleasures flie away.
Is not so good as it doth seem to be.
The sweetest cup of luxury procures
No man below an immortalitie.
Yea, when sicknesses do lay
Him upon his bed, and strain
Everie part with deadly pain,
All his pleasures flie away.
Let's put the case there was a belly-god,
Whose studie 't was to give his throat content;
To sacrifice to's panch both rost and sod
Was his religion. Every element
Its imployment had: The Waters,
Fruitfull Earth and nimble Air,
Ransack'd with a costly care,
For fish, flesh and fowl, were caters:
Whose studie 't was to give his throat content;
To sacrifice to's panch both rost and sod
Was his religion. Every element
Its imployment had: The Waters,
Fruitfull Earth and nimble Air,
Ransack'd with a costly care,
For fish, flesh and fowl, were caters:
The other cook'd it. This luxurious race
Did breath his stomach twice a day at least;
And each dish floted in provoking sawce,
Which still afresh his appetite increas'd.
From Dives that's now in hell,
For a table full of rare,
Toothsome and delicious fare,
This man bears away the bell.
Did breath his stomach twice a day at least;
And each dish floted in provoking sawce,
Which still afresh his appetite increas'd.
From Dives that's now in hell,
For a table full of rare,
Toothsome and delicious fare,
This man bears away the bell.
Well; this fat hog of Epicurus stie
Falls sick of surfeting, or else the gout
Or dropsie gripes him most tormentingly,
That you would think his soul were going out.
Pains do hinder him from sleeping,
He lies restlesse, and is so
Full of tossings to and fro
That his house is fill'd with weeping.
Falls sick of surfeting, or else the gout
Or dropsie gripes him most tormentingly,
That you would think his soul were going out.
Pains do hinder him from sleeping,
He lies restlesse, and is so
Full of tossings to and fro
That his house is fill'd with weeping.
His servants, seeing him so out of quiet,
Sadly bespoke him thus, Sir, here's a Phesant,
A dish of Partridge, Larks, or Quails, (a diet
Your Worship loves) a cup of rich and pleasant
Wine that comforts where it goes,
Muscadine, Canarie, Sherrie,
That hath often made you merrie:
This may ease you of your throes.
Sadly bespoke him thus, Sir, here's a Phesant,
A dish of Partridge, Larks, or Quails, (a diet
Your Worship loves) a cup of rich and pleasant
Wine that comforts where it goes,
Muscadine, Canarie, Sherrie,
That hath often made you merrie:
This may ease you of your throes.
The man repli'd, If I had wine by ods
Better then nectar, which the poets feigne
Was drunk in goblets by the heathen Gods,
It would not ease me of my smallest pain.
Should God rain me from the skies
Manna, glorious Angels food,
'T would not do me any good:
'Gainst it would my stomachrise
Better then nectar, which the poets feigne
Was drunk in goblets by the heathen Gods,
It would not ease me of my smallest pain.
Should God rain me from the skies
Manna, glorious Angels food,
'T would not do me any good:
'Gainst it would my stomachrise
There was another that plac'd no delight
In any thing but wealth; his chiefest good
Was purest gold: whether 't were wrong or right
He would be gaining: for he never stood
Upon conscience at all.
And to cry down avarice,
As he thought, was a device
Merely puritanicall.
In any thing but wealth; his chiefest good
Was purest gold: whether 't were wrong or right
He would be gaining: for he never stood
Upon conscience at all.
And to cry down avarice,
As he thought, was a device
Merely puritanicall.
To lie, to cheat, to swear, and, which is worse,
To forswear, to dissemble in his dealing,
Went ever down with him as things of course:
Nor would he slack a jote at down-right stealing.
Blind he was not; yet he saw
Not that statute-usury
Was at all forbidden by
Any part of morall law.
To forswear, to dissemble in his dealing,
Went ever down with him as things of course:
Nor would he slack a jote at down-right stealing.
Blind he was not; yet he saw
Not that statute-usury
Was at all forbidden by
Any part of morall law.
'T was fish whatever came within his net:
Sweet smell'd the dunghill that affoorded gain.
On such a thriving pinne his heart was set,
No thoughts but golden lodged in his brain.
Scraping thus early and late,
And increasing by these bad
Wayes and means, at length he had
Heaped up a vast estate.
Sweet smell'd the dunghill that affoorded gain.
On such a thriving pinne his heart was set,
No thoughts but golden lodged in his brain.
Scraping thus early and late,
And increasing by these bad
Wayes and means, at length he had
Heaped up a vast estate.
They say a Turkish Musulman, that dies
A faithfull servant unto Mahomet,
Shall presently enjoy a paradise
Of brave delights indeed: The place is set
All about with glorious matters;
There are rivers, pleasant benches
Straw'd with flowres, & gallant wenches
That have eyes as broad as platters,
A faithfull servant unto Mahomet,
Shall presently enjoy a paradise
Of brave delights indeed: The place is set
All about with glorious matters;
There are rivers, pleasant benches
Straw'd with flowres, & gallant wenches
That have eyes as broad as platters,
And many other joyes as good as these.
But all are bables to that strong content
Wherewith the man we told you of doth please
Himself in his estate: More merriment
In the images of Kings
Doth he find then six or seven
Martyr'd Turks do in their heaven.
Hearken how the miser sings;
But all are bables to that strong content
Wherewith the man we told you of doth please
Himself in his estate: More merriment
In the images of Kings
Doth he find then six or seven
Martyr'd Turks do in their heaven.
Hearken how the miser sings;
I'll eat, drink, and play,
And I'll freely enjoy
My pleasures before I am old;
I'll be sorie no more,
For my soul hath in store
Abundance of silver and gold.
And I'll freely enjoy
My pleasures before I am old;
I'll be sorie no more,
For my soul hath in store
Abundance of silver and gold.
In this day and night
Will I place my delight;
It shall fatten my heart with laughter.
No man shall excell me;
For who is 't can tell me
What pleasures there will be hereafter?
Will I place my delight;
It shall fatten my heart with laughter.
No man shall excell me;
For who is 't can tell me
What pleasures there will be hereafter?
His irreligious song was hardly ended,
When at his gate was heard one softly knocking:
It was that Tyrant Death, who came attended
With troups of griping throes; all these came flocking
Round about this golden fool.
As the issue did assure us,
God had sent these ghastly Furies
For to take away his soul.
When at his gate was heard one softly knocking:
It was that Tyrant Death, who came attended
With troups of griping throes; all these came flocking
Round about this golden fool.
As the issue did assure us,
God had sent these ghastly Furies
For to take away his soul.
Alas, Sir, said his servants what may be
The cause you send us out such wofull grones?
How fell you into such an agonie?
What ails your throat, your head, your heart, your bones
Or your stomach, or your brains,
That you howl so? here before you
Is that which must needs restore you,
And ease your extremest pains.
The cause you send us out such wofull grones?
How fell you into such an agonie?
What ails your throat, your head, your heart, your bones
Or your stomach, or your brains,
That you howl so? here before you
Is that which must needs restore you,
And ease your extremest pains.
Here's gold and silver and as stately stuff
As England, Scotland, France, or Ireland yields:
Of jewels and of plate you have enough:
Of any man you have the fruitfull'st fields.
Fattest oxen throng your stall;
Tenants tumble in your rent:
Those to whom you mony lent
Bring both use and principall.
As England, Scotland, France, or Ireland yields:
Of jewels and of plate you have enough:
Of any man you have the fruitfull'st fields.
Fattest oxen throng your stall;
Tenants tumble in your rent:
Those to whom you mony lent
Bring both use and principall.
This cannot chuse but comfort. But the man,
That lay upon his easelesse death-bed sprawling,
Made this replie, If any of you can
By marks infallible make sure my calling
To my soul, and my election;
If from any text divine
You could prove that Christ is mine,
This would be a good refection.
That lay upon his easelesse death-bed sprawling,
Made this replie, If any of you can
By marks infallible make sure my calling
To my soul, and my election;
If from any text divine
You could prove that Christ is mine,
This would be a good refection.
Or if you could assure my parting ghost
Of seeing God to all Eternitie,
Of being one amongst that heavenly host
Whose blisse it is to praise him endlessely;
This were comfort that accordeth
With his case that is distrest
As now I am, but the rest
On a death-bed none affoordeth.
Of seeing God to all Eternitie,
Of being one amongst that heavenly host
Whose blisse it is to praise him endlessely;
This were comfort that accordeth
With his case that is distrest
As now I am, but the rest
On a death-bed none affoordeth.
There was another man whose occupation
Was to passe time away: he made a trade
Of that which men do call a recreation:
He was indeed a very merry blade.
Taverns, bowling-alleys, playes,
Dauncing, fishing, fowling, racing,
Hawking, hunting, coursing, tracing,
Took up all his healthfull dayes.
Was to passe time away: he made a trade
Of that which men do call a recreation:
He was indeed a very merry blade.
Taverns, bowling-alleys, playes,
Dauncing, fishing, fowling, racing,
Hawking, hunting, coursing, tracing,
Took up all his healthfull dayes.
But on a time a sudden sicknesse came,
And seised him in each extremer part,
(This grudging did begin to spoil his game)
But at the length it fast'ned on his heart;
There it plung'd him wofully,
And forthwith the man is led
Home and laid upon his bed:
Think him now at point to die.
And seised him in each extremer part,
(This grudging did begin to spoil his game)
But at the length it fast'ned on his heart;
There it plung'd him wofully,
And forthwith the man is led
Home and laid upon his bed:
Think him now at point to die.
A little after came into the room
A gallant troup of necessarie stuff,
His coachman, falconer, huntsman, page, and groom,
His mistresse with her hands both in a muff,
Sorie all to see him so.
But see how these fools invent
To give a sick man content,
And to ease him ere they go.
A gallant troup of necessarie stuff,
His coachman, falconer, huntsman, page, and groom,
His mistresse with her hands both in a muff,
Sorie all to see him so.
But see how these fools invent
To give a sick man content,
And to ease him ere they go.
One breaks a jest, another tells a tale;
One strikes the lute, another sings a dittie;
(But neither of them pray to God at all)
Another tells what news is in the citie:
Everie man is in his vein,
And all jointly do contrive
Pleasant passages to drive
Out of doore their masters pain.
One strikes the lute, another sings a dittie;
(But neither of them pray to God at all)
Another tells what news is in the citie:
Everie man is in his vein,
And all jointly do contrive
Pleasant passages to drive
Out of doore their masters pain.
They ask'd him if he pleas'd to take the air,
Or call for's coach and ride to see a play.
And whether he would hunt the buck or hare,
Or to a tavern go to drive away
Or to drown times tediousnesse,
Or else to a tennis-court
Whither gallants do resort,
Or else play a game at chesse.
Or call for's coach and ride to see a play.
And whether he would hunt the buck or hare,
Or to a tavern go to drive away
Or to drown times tediousnesse,
Or else to a tennis-court
Whither gallants do resort,
Or else play a game at chesse.
The man reply'd, Ye know I must be gone
The way of all, I cannot tell how soon;
And I have other things to think upon:
Already it is with me afternoon;
Erelong my declining sunne
Needs must set. Oh! my life hangs
On a thred: these mortall pangs
Crack it. Out my glasse is runne.
The way of all, I cannot tell how soon;
And I have other things to think upon:
Already it is with me afternoon;
Erelong my declining sunne
Needs must set. Oh! my life hangs
On a thred: these mortall pangs
Crack it. Out my glasse is runne.
Time was I doted on these idle toyes:
Now can they not a dram of comfort yield.
Too late I see they are death-bed joyes,
No refuge from soul-vexing storms, no shield
When a mortall blow is given.
Prate no more: let not a man
Open's mouth unlesse he can
Tell me how to get to heaven.
Now can they not a dram of comfort yield.
Too late I see they are death-bed joyes,
No refuge from soul-vexing storms, no shield
When a mortall blow is given.
Prate no more: let not a man
Open's mouth unlesse he can
Tell me how to get to heaven.
There was another that for nothing car'd
(It was a woman) but for vain excesse
In bravery of clothes; no cost was spar'd,
Nor art, nor care, that served to expresse
To the full a female pride:
But at length it came to passe
That this spruce and gallant lasse
Fell extremely sick and di'd.
(It was a woman) but for vain excesse
In bravery of clothes; no cost was spar'd,
Nor art, nor care, that served to expresse
To the full a female pride:
But at length it came to passe
That this spruce and gallant lasse
Fell extremely sick and di'd.
But I must tell you, that, whilst like a lion
Pains tore her bones in pieces, ere she sent
Her last breath out, (imagine her of Sion
A matchlesse daughter) to her chamber went,
Weeping ripe, her good handmaiden,
Purposing as much as may be
To chear up her dying Ladie:
For with comforts was she laden.
Pains tore her bones in pieces, ere she sent
Her last breath out, (imagine her of Sion
A matchlesse daughter) to her chamber went,
Weeping ripe, her good handmaiden,
Purposing as much as may be
To chear up her dying Ladie:
For with comforts was she laden.
Thus she began, and spake it with a grace,
Be comforted, good Madame, never let
A little sicknesse spoil so good a face;
Your Ladyship cannot so soon forget
Your contents. If ever any
Gentlewoman liv'd that might
Find materialls of delight,
You, good Madame, have as many.
Be comforted, good Madame, never let
A little sicknesse spoil so good a face;
Your Ladyship cannot so soon forget
Your contents. If ever any
Gentlewoman liv'd that might
Find materialls of delight,
You, good Madame, have as many.
Here for your feeet are tinkling ornaments;
Here are your bonnets, and your net-work-cauls,
Fine linen too that every eye contents,
Your head-bands, tablets, eare-rings, chains, and falls,
Your nose-jewels, and your rings,
Your hoods, crisping-pinnes, & wimples,
Glasses that bewray your pimples,
Vails, and other pretty things:
Here are your bonnets, and your net-work-cauls,
Fine linen too that every eye contents,
Your head-bands, tablets, eare-rings, chains, and falls,
Your nose-jewels, and your rings,
Your hoods, crisping-pinnes, & wimples,
Glasses that bewray your pimples,
Vails, and other pretty things:
Here are your dainty mantles, and your sutes
Of changeable apparel, and your tires
Round like the moon, your bracelets, (finger-fruits)
Of busie houres) mufflers, and golden wires;
And so many more that no man
Can repeat nor yet remember
From October to September:
This would comfort any woman.
Of changeable apparel, and your tires
Round like the moon, your bracelets, (finger-fruits)
Of busie houres) mufflers, and golden wires;
And so many more that no man
Can repeat nor yet remember
From October to September:
This would comfort any woman.
Suppose her, if you will, an English Lady;
And think you heare her waiting-gentlewoman
Bespeak her thus, Madame, here is a gawdy
And glorious shew, (these fashions are not common.)
Here's your beaver and your feather,
Here are silver-ribband knots,
Trunks full of rich riding-coats,
Gallant shelters 'gainst the weather.
And think you heare her waiting-gentlewoman
Bespeak her thus, Madame, here is a gawdy
And glorious shew, (these fashions are not common.)
Here's your beaver and your feather,
Here are silver-ribband knots,
Trunks full of rich riding-coats,
Gallant shelters 'gainst the weather.
Here are your holland and your cambrick-smocks,
Your gowns of velvet, satten, taffatie,
Irons to curvifie your flaxen locks,
And spangled roses that outshine the skie:
For your head here's precious geere,
Bonelace-cros-cloths, squares & shadows,
Dressings, which your Worship made us
Work upon above a yeare.
Your gowns of velvet, satten, taffatie,
Irons to curvifie your flaxen locks,
And spangled roses that outshine the skie:
For your head here's precious geere,
Bonelace-cros-cloths, squares & shadows,
Dressings, which your Worship made us
Work upon above a yeare.
Rich chains of pearl to tie your hair together,
And others to adorn your snowie breast;
Silk stockings, starre-like shoes of Spanish leather:
And that which farre excelleth all the rest
And begets most admiration,
Of your clothes is not their matter,
Though the world affords not better,
But it is their Frenchest fashion.
And others to adorn your snowie breast;
Silk stockings, starre-like shoes of Spanish leather:
And that which farre excelleth all the rest
And begets most admiration,
Of your clothes is not their matter,
Though the world affords not better,
But it is their Frenchest fashion.
Madame, believe 't, the fairest of the Graces
Subscribes to you. Whenever you appear
Adorned with your gold and silver-laces,
Your presence makes the greedi'st eye good chear.
This consideration
In time past was wont to please you:
Now then, Madame, let it ease you
And afford you consolation.
Subscribes to you. Whenever you appear
Adorned with your gold and silver-laces,
Your presence makes the greedi'st eye good chear.
This consideration
In time past was wont to please you:
Now then, Madame, let it ease you
And afford you consolation.
The dying woman, when this speech was done,
After a grone or two made this replie,
Doth such a curtain-lecture suit with one
That everie houre doth look when she should die?
'T is not congruous. Wer'st thou able
My poore naked soul to dresse
With a Saviours righteousnesse,
This indeed were comfortable:
After a grone or two made this replie,
Doth such a curtain-lecture suit with one
That everie houre doth look when she should die?
'T is not congruous. Wer'st thou able
My poore naked soul to dresse
With a Saviours righteousnesse,
This indeed were comfortable:
But all the rest is not. Oh! how I grieve
To think upon my former vanitie:
Alas, I feel these toyes cannot relieve,
Nor ease, nor comfort. Thus let luxurie
Pitch on what it will, its joyes
Are but painted, nor can bring us
Ease when pangs of Death do wring us,
Much lesse can they make our dayes
To think upon my former vanitie:
Alas, I feel these toyes cannot relieve,
Nor ease, nor comfort. Thus let luxurie
Pitch on what it will, its joyes
Are but painted, nor can bring us
Ease when pangs of Death do wring us,
Much lesse can they make our dayes
Eternall here. Thy servant, Lord, beseecheth
The presence of thy spirit that discovers
How vain that carnall joy is which bewitcheth
With pleasant poison all her sottish lovers.
Let not earth-delights forestall me:
Help thy servant to provide
Pleasures that will then abide
When thou sendest Death to call me.
The presence of thy spirit that discovers
How vain that carnall joy is which bewitcheth
With pleasant poison all her sottish lovers.
Let not earth-delights forestall me:
Help thy servant to provide
Pleasures that will then abide
When thou sendest Death to call me.
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